In Death
by ChaosKirin
Summary: Short WoW fic about Death Knights. A gnome remembers her time before she entered service to the Lich King, and a friend pulls her out of her sadness.


Panic had driven her life for the past several hours, which was just fine with the newly-conscious gnome who now stood in front of a Stormwind tavern mirror. It meant that she didn't have time to actually think about what she'd become.

Pulling down the bottom lid of her eye, she tried to find some hint of the dusty green color within that her family loved so much about her, but there was none of that. All that stared back at her was the hollowed face that she knew was hers. Her eyes blazed brilliant blue with the magics keeping her alive, and every time she exhaled, a small cloud of frost danced across the glass surface before her.

Too short to really see herself well, Rebekka shoved a stored barrel of ale in front of the mirror, and climbed up onto it. She did this with surprising strength, actually, which she'd never stopped to consider prior to this point. Somewhere along the line, she'd gone from a priest to a veritable powerhouse. If only she felt better about that little perk. But now, staring at herself in the dirty glass, all she could see was a monster. Others obviously thought as much of her, since she was covered in rotten apples and – she reached over and pulled a banana peel from the black pauldron that sat on her shoulder.

Overcome with another round of panic, she unstrapped the spiked shoulder guard and let it drop to the wooden floor with a powerful thud. After removing the other one, she threw it across the bathroom hard enough for it to embed into the wall.

"Dh!" was about the only thing she could think of to say, as she unsteadily toppled from the barrel. Unable to help a whine, she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, vaguely wondering how she managed to get to this point. Most of her service under the Lich King was a haze, but she could recall certain moments...

Her eyes flickered toward the door. It was open just a crack, and through it, she could see a familiar face. It hadn't been so scarred before, but this human's visage was now criss-crossed with the leavings of a war that had left Rebekka dead.

Sitting up, the gnome looked at the floor.

Her restroom Guest pushed the barrel of ale in front of the door to prevent anyone else from entering, and then sat down, leaning against it.

"You don't wanna sit on the floor, Bekky. It's filthy," he said.

"You're sitting on it," she replied, her voice echoing, distorted. He didn't reply, so she went on. "Did you see the show?"

"All the people spitting and stuff? Yeah, I happened to get a peek at that."

There was a thud from the other side of the door as someone tried to enter. Some rather colorful language came through the heavy barrier, but neither of the occupants seemed very inclined to move. Rebekka kept staring at the floor, and her companion continued staring at her. It was uncomfortable, but understandable. No one had ever seen a Death Knight so closely and actually lived; at least, that's what she imagined.

"I can't even cry, Kel. I tried. I guess undead don't need to, so..."

"So they don't make 'em that way."

Rebekka nodded, reaching back to pull the strap out of her long black hair. No longer tied back, it was more manageable, at least where it involved combing bits of fruit out of it. "He used my body. It wasn't even... All these people, all they can think of is that I..." She closed her eyes, trying to block out some of the more vivid memories of her cruelty. "I never killed anyone before that. Maybe that's why they raised me. Because it was ironic."

Kel rolled his eyes. "I don't think they have much of a sense of humor."

"And—and I watched others resist! They were killed, and I just stood there and let it happen." Her voice got quieter. "...helped."

Kel slid closer, the splintered floor catching his trousers and creating a horrible scraping sound. He wrapped an arm around her. "You're cold."

"I'm dead."

"Undead."

Rebekka elbowed him a little harder than she meant to and scooted away. As he was recovering from the bruised rib, she asked, "Why are you trying to make a joke out of this?"

"Why are you trying to find a reason to damn yourself?" Kel winced, obviously still in pain, and again slid closer to her. "He's a powerful wizard. You can't blame yourself for not being able to escape that. And ... maybe the others..." He trailed off, lacking any sort of explanation that he found comforting. "Being used as a puppet isn't your fault."

Pulling her knees to her chest, she leaned against him, though with her recently-acquired chill body temperature, Kel seemed much too warm. The comfort was enough to cause her to endure it, though. "I remember... this sharp pain and then there was this light, like they always say. It was warm, and... Home. You know? Then, I felt something around my ankle hauling me back, and the light just... turned away, like it knew I was done for."

"You're not—"

"Lemme finish, okay?"

Kel resituated himself, and Rebekka sat up again. "I remember little snippets, but nothing much until the battle at Light's Hope. Then the light came back, like it'd found my soul again or something. And... I didn't know what to do. I'm... I don't even know how I'm going to fix what I did. All those people... I feel like I can't even start to save as many as I ... as I... you know, and I can't heal anymore, that's gone—I can't feel—the connection with the—"

Kel reached over and put his fingers to her lips. "You used to do this all the time."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Rebekka had always been prone to a little bit of panic. It's why she was a healer rather than a warrior or something. Because people felt that she'd be ever so much safer with a stick, rather than a pointy object. How she got a huge sword strapped to her back was a mystery, but apparently she knew how to use it or she wouldn't have become one of the Lich King's heroes.

"So... this undead thing. You're not going to ... rot or something, are you?"

Incredulous, she shook her head and tried to hide the smile, but it was too late. He'd seen it.

"There you are, Bekky." He took her shoulders as he kneeled in front of her. He probably would have stood up if she wasn't so much shorter than he was. As it was, he still had to hunch over to meet her eyes. "What the hell was he thinking, anyway? A Gnome?"

She wanted to laugh so badly, but the words stung, even if they were unintentional. It actually wasn't anything Kel said, but the situation surrounding his words. Rebekka should be dead. She should have been left behind on a battlefield to rot while her friends and family mourned her passing. She should have died, because when peoples' lives come to an end... they die and stay dead. For some reason, the Scourge pulled her onto their floating necropolis and destroyed her honor in one swift stroke.

Gone.

"Don't... don't cry, Bek..." He reached up with a sleeve to dry her eyes before they both came to the same realization. She was actually crying.

Pulling back, she rubbed the back of her gloved hands across her face. "...Wow, I didn't think falling apart would feel so good," she muttered, pushing herself to her feet and staggering back against the nearest wall. She sniffled, glancing sidelong at herself in the portion of the mirror that she could actually see.

"I'm sorry... Lemme buy you dinner or something." Kel stood up, too, pulling the thrown pauldron out of the woodwork and handing it back down to her. She gathered the other one up and tucked both under her arm.

Kel hesitated for a moment, before asking, "Do you still, you know. Eat?"


End file.
